


A Very Pratt-Basterd Christmas

by frankenbolt



Category: Bottom (UK), The Young Ones (TV 1982)
Genre: Domestic, Family Fluff, M/M, mentions of the usual stable of rik and ade characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:13:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21960760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankenbolt/pseuds/frankenbolt
Summary: The Uncles arrive and threaten to ruin Rick and Vyv's first christmas with their son.
Relationships: Edward "Eddie" Elizabeth Hitler/Richard "Richie" Richard, Vyvyan Basterd/Rick (Young Ones)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	A Very Pratt-Basterd Christmas

“What the hell is that?!”

Vyvyan sighed as he closed the front door behind the invasion of his uncles (their uncles...fuck their family tree was convoluted). “What the bloody hell do you think it is?” He deadpanned as he crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s our son.”

“We have a son?” Eddie exclaimed indignantly, gesturing to six year old James. “Gotta say Vyvie, seems just a bit incestuous. Just how drunk was I when you had your wicked way with me, you _FOUL_ pervert?!”

“I’ll say! But more importantly, just where do you get off having a child with your nephew when you SAID we couldn’t have one!” Richie pouted at his ‘ _flatmate_ ’. “ _Oh, it’ll change things, Richie_.’ ‘ _I like things the way they are, Richie._ ’ ' _It'll ruin your figure, Richie_ ' And yet here you are, with a product of incest that you didn’t even bother to include **ME**!”

“CHRIST.” Vyvyan ran a tired hand over his face. “James. IS. RICK and MY Child. We adopted him. Uncle Eddie had nothing to do with the process.”

“I should ruddy well hope so, young man!”

Eddie was watching the six year old with something that amounted to distain and mild curiosity. The six year old stared back with blank interest in his big brown eyes.

Clearing his throat Eddie asked “So, what’s that you’re drinking?”

James held up a juice box. “Ribena.”

“And what?”

“And air I suppose.” James shook the box. “It’s empty.”

“Vyvie, get the boy a Ribena and Vodka and I’ll have the same. Only hold the Ribena.”

Vyvyan sighed. “I’m not giving my son Vodka.”

“And why not? You loved that when you were a nipper. Used to sit you on my lap-”

“On the bar.” Vyvyan deadpanned. 

“-And gave you the odd sip-”

“You’d hang me upside down by my ankles to steal from behind the bar whilst you and Richie would keep a look out.”

“And you turned out alright!”

“I’m not giving James Vodka because he’s having Baby Cham later with dinner.”

From behind the kitchen door (from which an ominous thick black smoke was issuing) Rick shouted “JAMES ISN’T TO HAVE ANY ALCOHOL. END OF DISCUSSION.”

Richie scoffed and grinned at James.

“Aw, my nephew doesn’t know what’s good for you, eh poppet? You come along with your great uncles and have a bit of a drinky drink with us!”

He then proceeded to ruffle Jame’s hair that had the six year old fleeing to Vyvyan’s side, the punk doctor looking pointedly at the door. “I think it’s time you two cleared off.”

Eddie crowed in dismay “But we’ve only just got here!”

“Yes, exactly. You didn’t even bloody bother coming to James’ adoption party when you learnt you had to bring him a present!” Vyvyan seethed at the pair.

Eddie and Richie had the tiniest modicrum of decency to TRY and look contrite about this. They failed, of course. “Yes, well. I bet that wretched nephew of mine, Colin, didn’t bother bringing the little mite anything!” Richie wailed.

“Colin gave me a make up set.” James offered. “I’m not an autumn like him though, Daddy Rick said I’m more of a winter…And Vim gave me a poster of his band.”

Stuttering Richie continued. “Ok, well, I bet that utter twat Gertrude couldn't be bothered to tear himself away from Panto long enough to be bothered to bring him anything!”

Vyvyan shook his head. “He sent tickets for us to go see him in Dick Wittington in Dunstable. Shit show as usual, he barely got three lines and he forgot all of them, but that was SOMETHING.”

Eddie piped up after tugging on Richie's shirt sleeve “What about your half brother, Alan? Smarmy Tory cunt, bet he couldn’t be bothered either, especially what with these two being-“

Rick poked his head out of the kitchen doorway, his face half smeared with gravy, but furious. “We do NOT speak that…that…Austerity loving, turd slinging, homophobic, Conservative BASTARD's name in this house!” before disappearing back into the smog of the kitchen.

“Even Turvey came down and gave James an encyclopaedia on the wonders of fungus.” Vyvyan continued, smugly. “So unless you two wise old bastards have something for our son, you can both fuck back off to whatever Hammersmith rock you crawled out of.”

"Yeah well, maybe we will!" Richie sneered back. 

"YEAH!"

"GOOD."

"Sounds like dear little Wicky is making a right mess in there anyway. Honestly, he's not at all domestic. 'Fraid that little trait dies with me!" Richie tossed his greasy hair and made to storm out. "Come along Eddie!"

"Just uh...what are you having?" Eddie muttered to Vyvyan.

"Nothing Rick makes, probably going to end up going to get a kebab at this rate." Vyvyan shrugged.

"You can BLIMMIN' WELL PISS OFF WITH THEM IF YOU KEEP INSULTING MY COOKING VYVYAN!" Came Rick's put upon cry from behind the kitchen door.

"Can I get a kids meal?"

"Sure thing James. Anything you want. S'Christmas afterall." Vyvyan smiled down at his son, before noticing Eddie still hadn't left. He was staring between the father and son with unfamiliar and thoughtful look on his face. As he caught his nephew staring however he flipped him off and strode from the house.

Not like you'd catch Edward Hitler with a sprog. Not bloody likely.


End file.
